


Prisoner of mind games

by SmallHuman



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Cyborgs, Dom/sub Undertones, Forced Orgasm, Hate Sex, Interrogation, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mind Manipulation, Misuse of the Force, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Human Genitalia, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Prison, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots, not really but it's similar content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallHuman/pseuds/SmallHuman
Summary: Obi Wan manipulates General Grievous using the force, altering his state of mind, and uses that to get information out of him.
Relationships: Grievous | Qymaen jai Sheelal/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72





	Prisoner of mind games

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I'm really just fudging what force powers can do. But Whatever, I Wanted To Write It

It began in the early afternoon. General Grievous was pacing about, giving orders and plotting destruction, when he became hyper aware of every plate, motor and servo in his groin region, rubbing together with sudden sparks of... pleasure? He almost stumbled mid-step, and broke off in the middle of his sentence. The droids waiting for orders looked at each other, babbling quietly. Grievous cleared his throat awkwardly; if he could blush, he would have been bright red. He never got like this, usually… wasn’t he past these organic urges?

He excused himself and fled to his room as quickly as he could, trying not to think about how all his mechanical parts rubbed against each other while he walked. He had a bed, though he didn’t sleep there very often, and he collapsed onto it, sliding fingers urgently under the plates of his pelvis. Underneath the movable armor was a plane of black material full of sensors, and now more than ever it was extremely sensitive. It wasn’t genitalia in the traditional sense, but he never coupled with others anyway, and it served his own needs well enough.

Every day except this one, anyway. He got off quickly, but arousal was still fogging his mind.

What’s wrong with me? He thought, climbing from his bed. He needed to grind against something, and he ended up humping the arm of his couch. He was mortified by his senseless behavior, but something was making him desperate. Maybe he was experiencing some strange, embarrassing malfunction. 

His breathing grew ragged while he ground against the couch arm. He came with a shuddering spasm and choked cry. He collapsed to the ground to recover his breath, leaning weakly on the couch. Something still felt wrong, though. He needed something more, a different kind of release. Maybe he needed another person? He’d never been the type to hire prostitutes, but these were no normal circumstances. 

He coughed for a minute, disturbed that his body still felt electric. The thought of another person made him pause, and then something clicked. These feelings weren’t his own; there must have been a disturbance in the force, and he instinctively knew it was Obi Wan Kenobi’s fault. The certainty with which he knew this surprised him, and he briefly wondered if that was how it felt to be force-sensitive, but the thought was interrupted by a knock at his door. 

He scrambled to his feet. His underlings knew not to disturb him except in case of emergency, and if Kenobi was truly responsible for this, he might be planning something else as well. He did his best to focus, pelvic plates clicking back into place just before he opened the door. 

“What?” he barked.

“Multiple republic ships coming out of hyperspace, sir,” the droid reported. 

“Damn it.” Grievous swept quickly down the hallway, trying not to notice how badly he still needed to touch himself. 

He arrived in the command room to see republic warships dotting the sky. He gave orders, directed droids, did his best to keep them alive and destroy the enemies. They were outnumbered, though, and more than that, he knew he was making mistakes. He couldn’t focus while so hot and bothered, and that enraged him, both at his own stupid body and at Kenobi for doing this to him. 

“Fire on that ship,” he commanded, guessing at the one where the jedi might be. He had cannons in position that could take out their shields for a short window. 

They obliterated the enemy ship, but as they did so, something rocked their own, sending vibrations through the floor. Even as he tried to plan, tried to organize his droids to fend off the boarding party, the vibrations felt through his legs were enough to make him wet. 

It didn’t usually happen, but when especially aroused Grievous sometimes leaked a small amount of synthetic fluid from where a vulva would be if he had one, through the black material. Not enough to be visible, not now, but it worried him as he chased the sounds of combat. 

He was distracted enough that he didn’t notice the jedi behind him until there was a lightsaber at his back. 

“Kenobi,” he hissed, spinning. “What have you done to me?”

“Thrown you off balance.”

As much as Grievous hated it, it had worked, and still was working. He was all over the place, and a corner of his mind was still in the bedroom, wishing he were getting off right now. 

And so they fought. It was immediately obvious Grievous was at a disadvantage; he was distracted, unfocused, angry. Kenobi was instead controlled as always, and had his opponent backed into a corner before other jedi arrived as reinforcement. Grievous glared at Kenobi, wheezing for more reasons than one, kept back by a lightsaber inches from his throat. He said nothing, and eventually someone showed up with an electric weapon that knocked him out.

He woke an indeterminate time later tied to a wall, each limb pulled out and cuffed so that he was suspended completely splayed out. The room was bare but for a metal door opposite him. The floor directly below him had a grate in it, most likely to drain the blood of the usual organic torture victims. His sensors were still buzzing with urges he was unable to ignore, and he squirmed uncomfortably against his binds. 

Obi Wan entered shortly. 

“Kenobi,” Grievous growled. 

The jedi smirked. 

“I’m here to interrogate you,” he said.

“You know I won’t talk,” Grievous rumbled. 

“I think that may not be true,” Obi Wan said, stepping closer. 

Grievous realized too late what he was doing, and by then the jedi was manually opening his pelvic plates. 

“Stop that,” he growled, a slight edge of panic in his voice because he was already grinding against the provided hand as much as his restraints allowed. It was a blissful respite from the pressing need to be touched. Kenobi’s fingers played through the area, exploring where he was most sensitive, what made him squirm the most. 

He was breathing hard and nearing the edge when Kenobi pulled away. 

“Wait, come back,” he said, startled by the sudden loss of stimulation. He broke down coughing.

“You can finish if you answer my questions.”

Grievous recovered and glared daggers at the jedi, who waited a minute before trailing his fingers down his body to rub him again.

Again, he stepped away before Grievous came, and asked questions about the war. He obstinately refused to respond, and so it began again.

Over and over Kenobi brought him almost to orgasm, then stepped maliciously away. 

After this had occurred a few times, a drop of liquid fell from between the general’s legs. That piqued Obi Wan’s interest. 

“What’s this?” he inquired, trailing a finger through a moistened fold in his crotch, Grievous shivering at the touch. 

“Fuck off,” Grievous snapped weakly. 

“As you wish. Maybe tomorrow you’ll come to your senses.” Obi Wan smirked and left the room, glancing mockingly over his shoulder before the door swung shut. 

Grievous hung his head. His heart was beating rapidly and he tried to calm his breathing. Soon enough some other stranger entered the room, asked the same old questions, then someone else, all of them unaware of his plight. They weren’t using invasive torture methods (not counting Kenobi, of course) but they worked in shifts to keep him from sleeping or otherwise catching a break, and the whole time he was fidgeting in his bonds, pupils dilated. 

Obi Wan returned some time later for his turn at interrogation. This time he didn’t even touch him, he just stood distractingly close to taunt him. 

“Put an end to this mind trickery,” Grievous demanded. 

“You know what you have to do for that to happen.”

He did. And he very slowly conceded a tidbit of information, reasoning that he didn’t really care for the side he was fighting on; all he cared about was the destruction of the jedi, which he could attend to whenever he got free. 

With another round of almost-orgasm, he surrendered a little more, and by the end of the two hour session he’d said enough that Kenobi finally let him come. 

Grievous moaned but already knew the satisfaction would be short-lived, the force-manipulated part of his mind already beginning to re-emerge. 

Another day passed, then another. Obi Wan repaid the best information by using a vibrator on him, and let him come three times after revealing proprietary plans for a powerful secret weapon. 

His other interrogators wondered out loud why only Kenobi could seem to get answers from him. 

“Why don’t you ask him,” Grievous would say snarkily. He hated his captor more and more every day.

A younger man came in one day, likely still training. He was a force-sensitive, probably someone’s padawan. 

“Why are you leaking? Do you need a mechanic?” he asked, looking towards the general’s face to avoid looking at his crotch.

“No, I need someone to get me off. You’re welcome to volunteer,” Grievous growled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He was sick of this.

“Pervert,” the young padawan said, turning green and heading for the door. 

“Wait, come back,” Grievous coughed. The young man stopped with a hand on the door handle. 

“What?” he demanded, eyeing him warily. 

“Obi Wan Kenobi has been performing immoral acts upon me with the force that break the jedi oath. You can sense it, yes?”

He considered for a moment, brows creasing. “There’s a disturbance in the force,” he said finally, “but I’m not well-trained enough to tell more than that. I can fetch someone with more experience?”

“If you can get them to believe you.”

“We’re obligated to investigate your claims, I think,” he said, and exited. 

Grievous exhaled. His rival had probably banked on this remaining secret, but having tattled, he’d very likely get into huge trouble. 

Soon he heard activity outside his door, which became a commotion a few seconds later.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, we had no idea what he was doing to you,” someone said, stumbling over their words as they entered the room. Grievous caught a glimpse of a few jedi outside, all in a tizzy. “You poor thing. We’re sending people to confront Obi Wan right now, and we’ll get him out of your head as soon as possible.”

His restraints clicked to unlocked and he stumbled to the floor before the jedi. 

“My apologies, but I need to masturbate now,” Grievous said evenly, fingers already sliding under his pelvis armor.

“That’s alright,” the other said, quickly fleeing the cell and locking it.

He braced himself against the floor with two arms and frantically bucked his hips against his other two arms. He needed this; he was practically throbbing and every movement burned with pleasure. His mind was clouded with that dreadful urge that wasn’t his own, so he just rubbed harder, fingers becoming slick with his own excretions. The release was heavenly, and he lay to the ground for a minute, rolling onto his back while his mind reeled. 

He recovered enough to sit up against a wall. He touched himself a little more gently. The lust wasn’t quite as urgent after his previous orgasm, but still very there. God, he was tired. 

Then, shortly after he came again, it finally, finally disappeared. He could feel the tendrils that gripped his mind lifting away, to his relief. He could finally think again, move without feeling every bolt and screw of his parts screaming to be touched again. 

He stood and tried to make himself presentable when he heard footsteps outside his cell.

“I apologize on behalf of the jedi council for the events that occurred without our knowledge,” some jedi with bowed head said through the barred window in the door. “It was a serious violation of our code, and of your rights as a prisoner. Kenobi will be punished. And, though it pains me, General, code dictates that you are compensated for such a wrong.”

Grievous rolled his shoulders. 

“You are to be released, and you will have 24 hours before we come after you.”

“Excellent.” he paused. “And... do keep tighter reigns on your jedi in the future. That was terribly undignified.”


End file.
